rning, both
of you. You'll miss him at ten paces, like you did before at two
hundred."

"_Nee_, _kerel_, _nee_. But that was in the dark," replied Hermanus,
grabbing the bottle and his tin pannikin, which rattled against the
glass neck in the drunken shakiness of his big hand.

"_Maagtig_! leave some for me, Mani," cried Gideon Roux, striving to
wrest the bottle from the other. By the time he had succeeded there was
precious little in it, and then this noble pair went forth, rejoicing in
anticipation of the act of butchery which was to fall to their lot on
the morrow.

Left to himself Adrian let fly an ejaculation of mingled thankfulness
and disgust. He had indeed fallen, to have become the boon companion of
such as these. They were of the very lowest type--hardly removed from
the _bijwoner_ class--drunken, coarse brutes at that; but now they were
his accomplices in his act of murderous villainy--his tools. His tools?
Yes, but they would soon become his masters.

No, that they should not--he told himself. Let to-morrow's deed be done
and over, and they would soon see that he was not a man to be trifled
with. Reveal the conspiracy? Would they? And if so, who was going to
take the word of two such shady characters as they? No, indeed. But
after to-morrow he would turn over a new leaf--would make a fresh start.

A fresh start? What sort of a fresh start could be made with murder for
its foundation? Yes--murder! Alone there in the silent night, alone
with his evil conscience, the words of his victim uttered that morning--
uttered, too, with the semblance of a prophecy--came back to him: "So
sure as I stand here death will find you. Within three days death will
find you out." He shivered. Men on the brink of the grave were, he had
heard tell, at times gifted with supernatural foresight. And then in
letters of fire upon the darkness of his thoughts seemed to blaze forth
those other words: "They who take the sword shall perish by the sword."
For "sword" read "bullet" Colvin Kershaw was to die in the morning, with
several bullets through him. He, Adrian, had murdered him--by means of
a fiendish plot, and abundance of false testimony. The next few weeks--
months even--would bring with them a series of hard-fought battles, and
then should _he_ escape?

"Bah!" he exclaimed, pulling himself together. "These are all old
women's tales. I must take my chance, and I dare say it is as good as
any other's.